excuse one fault; for I must think it a fault in a fine gentleman; and that you are such, I'll give it under my hand.

Col. I wish you'd give me your consent to marry Mrs. Lovely under your hand, Sir Philip.

Sir Phil. I'll do't, if you'll step into St. James's Coffee-house, where we may have pen and ink ;tho' I cann't foresee what advantage my consent will be to you, without you could find a way to get the rest of the guardians.—But I'll introduce you, however: she is now at a Quaker's, where I carried her this morning, when you saw us in Gracechurch-Street.-I assure you she has an odd ragout of guardians, as you will find when you hear the characters, which I'll endeavour to give you as we go along.-Hey! Pierre, Jaque, Renno,-where are you all, scoundrels?Order the chariot to St. James's Coffee-house. Col. Le Noir, la Brun, la Blanc.-Morbleu, ou sont ces Coquins la? Allons, Monsieur le Chevalier. Sir Phil. Ah! Pardonez moi, Monsieur.

Col. Not one step, upon my soul, Sir Philip.
Sir Phil. The best bred man in Europe, positively.

[Exeunt.

SCENE 11.

Changes to OBADIAH PRIM'S House.

LOVELY, followed by Mrs. PRIM.

Enter Mrs.

Mrs. Prim. Then thou wilt not obey me: and thou

dost really think those fallals become thee?

Mrs. Lov. I do, indeed.

Mrs. Pr. Now will I be judged by all sober people, if I don't look more like a modest woman than thou dost, Anne.

Mrs. Lov. More like a hypocrite you mean, Mrs. Prim.

Mrs. Pr. Ah! Anne, Anne, that wicked Philip Modelove will undo thee,-Satan so fills thy heart with pride, during the three months of his guardianship, that thou becomest a stumbling block to the upright.

Mrs. Lov. Pray who are they? Are the pinch'd cap and formal hood the emblems of sanctity? Does your virtue consist in your dress, Mrs. Prim ?

Mrs. Pr. It doth not consist in cut hair, spotted face, and a bare neck.-Oh the wickedness of the generation! The primitive women knew not the abomination of hoop'd petticoats.

Mrs. Lov. No, nor the abomination of cant neither. Don't tell me, Mrs. Prim, don't.-I know you have as much pride, vanity, self-conceit, and ambition among you, couched under that formal habit, and sanctified countenance, as the proudest of us all; but the world begins to see your prudery.

Mrs. Pr. Prudery! What! do they invent new words as well as new fashions? Ah! poor fantastic age, I pity thee-Poor deluded Anne, which dost thou think most resemblest the saint, and which the sinner, thy dress or mine? Thy naked bosom allureth the eye of the by-stander-encourageth the frailty of

human nature-and corrupteth the soul with evil longings.

Mrs. Lov. And pray who corrupted your son Tobias with evil longings? Your maid Tabitha wore a handkerchief, and yet he made the saint a sinner.

Mrs. Pr. Well, well, spit thy malice. I confess Satan did buffet my son Tobias, and my servant Tabitha; the evil spirit was at that time too strong, and they both became subject to its workings,-not from any outward provocation,—but from an inward call; he was not tainted with the rottenness of the fashions, nor did his eyes take in the drunkenness of beauty. Mrs. Lov. No! that's plainly to be seen.

Mrs. Pr. Tabitha is one of the faithful; he fell not with a stranger.

Mrs. Lov. So! Then you hold wenching no crime, provided it be within the pale of your own tribe.You are an excellent casuist, truly.

Enter OBADIAH PRIM.

Ob. Pr. Not stripp'd of thy vanity, yet, Anne!— Why dost thou not make her put it off, Sarah ?

Mrs. Pr. She will not do it.

Ob. Pr. Verily, thy naked breasts troubleth my outward man; I pray thee hide 'em, Anne: put on an handkerchief, Anne Lovely.

Mrs. Lov. I hate handkerchiefs when 'tis not cold weather, Mr. Prim.

Mrs. Pr. I have seen thee wear a handkerchief; nay, and a mask to boot, in the middle of July.

Mrs. Lov. Ay, to keep the sun from scorching me. Ob. Pr. If thou couldst not bear the sun-beams, how dost thou think man can bear thy beams? Those breasts inflame desire; let them be hid, I say.

Mrs. Lov. Let me be quiet, I say.—Must I be tormented thus for ever? Sure no woman's condition ever equalled mine! Foppery, folly, avarice and hypocrisy, are, by turns, my constant companions,—and I must vary shapes as often as a player-I cannot think my father meant this tyranny! No, you usurp an authority which he never intended you should take.

Ob. Pr. Hark thee, dost thou call good counsel tyranny? Do I, or my wife, tyrannize, when we desire thee in all love to put off thy tempting attire, and veil thy provokers to sin?

Mrs. Lov. Deliver me, good Heaven! or I shall go distracted. [Walks about. Mrs. Pr. So! now thy pinners are tost, and thy breasts pulled up!--Verily, they were seen enough -Fie upon the filthy taylor who made thy

before..

stays.

Mrs. Lov. I wish I were in my grave! Kill me ra. ther than treat me thus.

Ob. Pr. Kill thee! ha, ha! thou thinkest thou art acting some lewd play sure :-kill thee! Art thou prepared for death, Anne Lovely? No, no, thou wouldst rather have a husband, Anne:-thou wantest a gilt coach, with six lazy fellows behind, to flaunt it in the ring of vanity, among the princes and rulers of the

།

land-who pamper themselves with the fatness thereof; but I will take care that none shall squander away thy father's estate: thou shalt marry none such, Anne.

Mrs. Lov. Wou'd you marry me to one of your own canting sect?

Ob. Pr. Yea, verily, no one else shall ever get my consent, I do assure thee, Anne.

Mrs. Lov. And I do assure thee, Obadiah, that I will as soon turn papist, and die in a convent.

Mrs. Pr. Oh wickedness!

Mrs. Lov. Oh stupidity!

Ob. Pr. Oh blindness of heart!

Mrs. Lov. Thou blinder of the world, don't provoke me,-lest I betray your sanctity, and leave your wife to judge of your purity:

What were the emo

squeez'd Mary by the

tions of your spirit-when you hand last night in the pantry,-when she told you, you buss'd so filthily? Ah! you had no aversion to naked bosoms, when you begged her to shew you a little, little, little bit of her delicious bubby :--don't you remember those words, Mr. Prim?

Mrs. Pr. What does she say, Obadiah?

Ob. Pr. She talketh unintelligibly, Sarah. Which way did she hear this? This should not have reach'd the ears of the wicked ones:-verily, it troubleth [Aside.

me.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Philip Modelove, whom they call Sir Phi

D